The Blizzard
by BoomerCat
Summary: Gordon and Alan set out to rescue their brothers in the worst blizzard in 50 years. Pre-IR, teenage Tracys.


**The Blizzard**

"Okay, hit the spray." Fifteen-year-old Gordon Tracy's voice was tight as he guided the heavy-duty pickup down the lane leading from the Tracy farm to the main road.

Beside him, his younger brother Alan was calm and relaxed, with the sense of immortality that only the young can have. The younger teen flicked a switch and peered out the back window of the truck. Frowning, he used his gloved hand to wipe away the condensation that had gathered there. "Shit, Gordy, I can't see a thing. I don't know if it's working or not."

Gordon didn't dare take his eyes from the road ahead. Not that he could see it. The blizzard was the worst this part of Kansas had seen in half a century. Gordon could only tell his headlights were on because the dashboard indicator said they were.

In truth, neither of the teens would be out in this storm if it were not for the emergency that the weather had caused. Two nights previously there had been an ice storm that had taken out the power grid in all of southwestern Kansas. The blizzard that had followed on the heels of the ice storm had meant that power company crews were unable to get to most of the rural areas.

To the young teens, it had meant an extra vacation day from school. And it was no real hardship, as their father had taken them off the power grid two years earlier, installing an experimental generator designed by one of his best engineers. The family was safe and warm in their big rambling farmhouse.

But their grandmother worried about several of her friends, older folk who didn't have the luxury of a power generator. Scott and Virgil, who had made it home for the Christmas vacation barely before the storm, had taken the one ton loaded with generators and supplies and fitted with a large snowplow blade and headed out toward town.

Gordon and Alan had been left with the task of keeping the farm lane clear. The older half-ton pickup was fitted with its own snowplow blade. Although his older brothers had plowed the lane just half an hour earlier, the blizzard was so fierce that it was almost impossible to see where they had been. Gordon had a deathgrip on the wheel of the truck.

"Oh man, I can't see the road at all. God, I could be in the field for all I know."

"No, you're okay. If you were going off the road, you'd have run into the bank that Scott and Virg threw up."

Gordon grunted in surprise. He hadn't considered that. "Okay, so how will I know when I've reached the road?"

"Simple. The road is exactly a quarter mile from the house. Just watch the odometer."

"Crap, Why didn't you say that before I started out? I have no idea what the odometer was at."

"Fortunately, I've got your back, as always. When it flips over to seven, we're there."

Gordon let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good."

"Man, can you imagine what it must be like trying to get to town? Scotty is nuts, and Virg isn't far behind."

"Yeah. But if they didn't do it, nobody else would. I don't want to think about Christmas if something happened to Aunt Tina or the Mettlers. Grandma would cry all day."

Typically, Alan changed the subject. "Do you think it will let up in time for Dad and John to make it home?"

"I dunno. You know Dad. All it will take is a break in the clouds and he'll be here. He's probably already picked up Johnny."

"More importantly, do you think Dad will get my Christmas present through?"

"God, you're mercenary."

"Oh, yeah, like you're the soul of asceticism."

Gordon blurted out a laugh. "Asceticism? Where'd you come up with that?"

"Honors English. You like it?"

"Yeah, it… Oh, man, the odometer's on eight."

"Really? Wow. I thought we'd like, feel the road or something. What do we do now?"

The truck was still creeping forward, and before Gordon could reply, there was a sharp scraping sound. "Ah, there it is!"

The two teens looked left and right. The road was indistinguishable from the flat Kansas landscape. "Shit, they'll never make it back."

"We gotta get some kind of signal out here, so they don't miss the turnoff."

"Yeah," Alan frowned. "But what?"

"I dunno. Let's get turned around and get back to the house and figure it out."

"Okay. Wait a second. I gotta turn off the spray."

Gordon paused until Alan flicked the switch to the tank of ice-melting chemical, then carefully turned the pickup around. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to see the lane, but to his surprise, it was clearly marked, even in the blowing storm.

"Wow, that stuff really works!" Alan exclaimed. The chemical, like the generators, was experimental from their father's widespread Tracy Enterprises. It was environmentally friendly, and clearly very effective.

Gordon licked his lips. "Maybe we should try to make it to town."

"I dunno, Gordy. It took us a half-hour just to make it out to the road. It'd take us all night to get to town."

Gordon shifted the truck into gear, and started back down the farm lane. "Yeah, but look at this! The snow isn't sticking at all. This stuff might mean the difference between Scott and Virgil making it home."

"Okay by me. Now all you have to do is convince Grandma."

Gordon frowned. "Yeah. Well, she'll just have to understand."

Gordon pulled the truck up in front of the house. The two boys looked at each other, then hopped out of the truck, and headed up to the door. Alan slipped on the stairs, and would have fallen if Gordon hadn't grabbed him. "We'd better put some ashes on these steps."

"Yeah. I'll do that, and you tell Grandma the big plan."

"Coward."

"You'd better believe it. Hey, what do you think of, like, a fire in a steel drum for the signal?"

"Yeah, that'll work. You happen to have a steel drum handy?"

"Hey, I do the planning. The execution is up to you."

Gordon shook his head, and opened the door. "Grandma, we're back!"

The two teens stamped their feet and took off their heavy coats and hats. Ruth Tracy appeared, relief on her face. "Thank God, you're safe. Come in here and get some hot chocolate."

"We can't stay, Grandma. We have to get back out to the road and set up some kind of signal so Scott and Virg won't miss the turnoff."

"Oh, I don't know about that, baby. If anything, it's getting worse out there."

"All the more reason, Grandma. That de-icing stuff works really great, so the driveway is clear, but it won't do any good if Scott can't see it."

"Well, I'm hoping the boys will have the sense to stay in town if it's that bad."

Gordon shook his head. "You know how Scott is. He'll be all worried about you and he won't stay in town."

Ruth wrung her hands a worried frown on her face, "Oh, if only the cell tower hadn't gone down. If we could phone him, we could tell him we're safe."

Gordon shrugged. "I don't know about that. Knowing Scott, he'd probably still try to make it home. What Al and I are going to do is load up more of that de-icer, and go out to the road and push a ways toward town. That way when Scott hits a big bare patch, he'll know he's almost home."

Clearly indecisive, Ruth stared up at her grandson. Gordon waited, knowing better than to push. After a few moments the older woman nodded once and let out a breath. "All right, but don't try to go too far. And if you get stuck, stay with the truck, don't try to walk back. Oh, I wish your father was here."

With a rueful smile, Gordon nodded, "So do I, Grandma. So do I. Alan's going to put ashes out on the steps while I get the de-icer. Don't worry, Grandma. I'm not crazy like Scotty. I won't keep on if it's dangerous."

Ruth suddenly reached up to caress Gordon's cheek. "See that you don't, baby." She shook her head. "Oh, I wished I'd never mentioned Tina. She's smart enough to hunker down in cold like this, she'd have been fine."

Gordon shook his head as he put his heavy coat back on. "No, Grandma. You didn't have to say a word. We all love Aunt Tina, and we all were worried about her."

"All right, honey, I'm going to fill a thermos with that hot chocolate so you can take it with you."

Alan who was halfway out the door called out, "Don't forget the marshmallows!"

With a roll of his eyes, Gordon followed his brother out the front door. "Hey, does it look like it's letting up to you?"

Alan snorted, "No."

Gordon sighed, "Fine. I'm heading to the barn. Be ready when I get back."

Alan waved a hand in acknowledgement, and Gordon trudged through the three foot deep snow to the pickup. He started the engine, surprised at how quickly the cab had gotten cold once the heater had been turned off.

Dropping the plow, he reached over to flick the switch on the de-icer tank figuring it wouldn't hurt to have a clear pathway to the big barn at the rear of the house.

With his windshield wipers on high, he sighed, realizing Alan was right, the storm had not let up at all. He leaned forward over the steering wheel, peering out into what seemed to be a solid wall of white.

Gordon drove forward slowly, already regretting his decision to try to get to town. He hit the brakes hard when a darker wall suddenly rose up before him. The teen let out a shaky breath, realizing he'd almost run into the side of the barn.

Frowning, he cursed to himself. He was way off target, some ten feet to the left of the barn doors. Gordon glanced back over his shoulder, hoping his brother couldn't see.

He sighed, only slightly relieved. Knowing the old farmhouse was ablaze with light, and he was less than one hundred feet away, He could barely see a slightly lighter patch in the darkness.

It was only the thought of his older brothers facing a much more daunting trip that kept him from giving up. He backed the pickup a few feet, then turned and made it to the barn doors. With the engine running, Gordon darted out of the truck, and with more effort than he expected, pulled open the big sliding door just wide enough to get the truck through.

Once inside, he used the nifty loading robot his dad had brought home in the summer to load the back of the truck with as many barrels of the chemical as would fit. Standing in the bed of the pickup, Gordon had to think about how to hook the barrels up to the sprayer tank so that once on the road, he wouldn't have to stop to change them out.

The teenager sighed, wishing his brother was here with him. Actually, any of his brothers would do. He always felt smarter and more capable in their presence. Finally, he remembered what his father had said about the connections, and satisfied he had them right, he got back in the truck and headed out.

Once back out in the howling wind and blowing snow, Gordon's doubts returned. He shook his head at his folly. If he'd only re-filled the sprayer tank, and not loaded the additional barrels, he'd have had a legitimate excuse not to go far. But it was like every time he was out of the weather, he thought he was tougher, stronger, than he actually was.

With a deep breath, he headed back the way he'd come, again amazed at how no snow accumulated where the de-icer had been sprayed. He made it to the front of the house, where the bright lights spilled out, reflecting off of the still wildly blowing snow.

Gordon was vaguely surprised that he could actually see Alan come trotting down the porch steps and around the front of the truck. His brother hopped into the truck, holding a large thermos and a backpack, saying, "What took you so long? I was starting to think you missed the barn and drove out into the fields."

"I loaded four barrels. It took me a while to get the pumps set up right."

Peering through the back window, Alan asked, "You sure you did it right? I don't want to have to try and fix it in this storm."

"Have faith, little brother. But you heard Grandma, she doesn't want us to go very far, so even if I messed it up, it won't matter."

Alan looked across at his brother. "Define far."

"Look Al, as much as I'd like to get all the way to town, this storm is killer. I'll go only as far as I think I can go safely."

"Well, if you're afraid, I can always drive," Alan challenged.

Irked, Gordon responded, "Did I say I was afraid? There's a difference between fear and stupidity, Alan, and I am not going to be stupid."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything." Alan's grin took the sting out of the comment, and Gordon reached over to sock him in the shoulder.

Gordon slowed the truck down as they reached the road to town. His stomach clenched as he once again faced a solid wall of snow. Alan said, "Stop. Look what I found to mark the driveway."

The blond teen reached into his backpack and pulled out two dinner plate-sized round disks. Gordon's eyebrows went up as he recognized the disks as the lights they used to mark the runway of their airstrip at the far end of the farm.

"Where'd you find those?"

"Up in Johnny's room. Remember? He swiped a couple of them to use in his observatory."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "You actually entered the bat cave without permission?"

Alan grinned. "Yes, I feel deliciously wicked!"

Gordon snorted, "Deliciously wicked? God, you're such a girl."

"So says the guy who won't go into Johnny's bedroom."

'Yeah, yeah. So, you going to go put those out, or what?"

Alan shot his brother a look, and handed him one of the plates. Sighing, Gordon set the parking brake, and with his hand on the door handle raised a challenging eyebrow at his brother. "Ready? Go!"

Gordon shoved his door open and jumped out, running to the side of the driveway, hitting the switch on the light as he went. Pushing the light firmly into the snow bank, he dashed back to the truck, jumping in, and slamming his door shut a split second later than Alan.

"Ha! I win!"

In true sibling fashion, Gordon sniffed. "I let you win."

"Yeah, in your dreams. Hey those lights work pretty good, don't they?"

Gordon looked out, and nodded, the lights were bright enough to pierce through the whirling snow. "For now, yeah, but once the snow covers them, they'll probably be useless."

"No, they're like the de-icer. Dad said they have some kind of coating that will keep snow from sticking on them."

"Well, I guess we'll find out. We better get going." Gordon said, but sat staring out the windshield.

Alan noticed his brother's death stare and the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and let out his own breath. "Okay, now, we should be able to do this. We know the road is basically straight. We know we can hear the blade scraping on the asphalt. We know that Scott and Virgil's plow would have raised some kind of snowbank that'll keep us straight. We can do this, right? Because we're Tracys, right?"

Alan's encouragement calmed the thudding of Gordon's heart. With a look that he normally only showed in swimming competitions, he smiled grimly. "Right. Hit the sprayer."

Gordon dropped the plow, and stepped on the gas to get the truck moving. For a moment the wheels spun but then the heavy duty tire chains dug into the icy asphalt, and the pickup lurched ahead.

Gordon drove down what he hoped was the middle of the road. He still couldn't see a thing, but Alan was right. He could hear the scrape of the snow plow against the asphalt. He got the truck up to twenty miles an hour, knowing any faster would mean less spray on the snow, and any slower would risk the truck getting stalled.

As they moved forward, Gordon reminded himself to breathe, just breathe. He wasn't willing to admit it to Alan, but he was truly scared. If he drifted off the road, the truck would most likely become stuck, or even roll if he hit a gully.

Continuing down the road, Gordon glanced at the odometer. He gave a little sound of dismay when he realized they hadn't even gone a mile yet. Alan sat up at the sound, looking wildly around. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's just that this is really hard. I'm getting like, totally exhausted, and we haven't even got a quarter of the way to town."

Almost as if he were only now realizing the seriousness of the situation, Alan nodded his head. "Okay, I'll tell you what. You drive as far as you can, and we'll turn around, and I'll drive us back home. How's that?"

Gordon shot his brother a quick glance. "Yeah? You don't think we should keep trying?"

"Hey, we've already done more than Scott and Virgil expected, right? And honestly, when I left the house, I could see Grandma was practically crying."

"Aw. I don't like Grandma crying."

"Neither do I. So what do you say? We'll go a bit farther, then turn around and go home."

Gordon started to speak, then stopped. Shaking his head, he finally said softly, "It feels like giving up."

"And I had such hopes for you."

'Huh?"

"You said you weren't going to be stupid."

"Okay, you're right. You're sure you can handle getting us back home?"

"Actually, I'm sure I could handle going on, but I keep thinking about Grandma all alone back there. Driving where the road's been plowed is a piece of cake."

"All right. I think I can handle a little ways further."

"Excellent."

The two teens became quiet, listening tensely to the sound of the plow on the road. At one point, the sound changed as one edge of the plow lost contact with the road. Gordon was steering back even as Alan barked out, "Hey!"

Gordon got the truck back to the center of the road, his heart pounding wildly, his breath coming in gasps.

Alan blew out a breath. "Wow, I could have sworn you were going straight as an arrow. Good reactions, Bro!"

Gordon smiled shakily. "Yeah, now at least we know what it sounds like if we get too close to the verge."

Leaning over, Alan peered at the dashboard. "How far have we come?"

Gordon glanced down, and his eyebrows went up. "Hey, it says almost three miles! Wow!"

"So are you ready to turn around?"

Feeling the ache in his shoulders, and the quivery feeling in his arms and legs, Gordon nevertheless bit his lip, "Naw, I think I'm good for a little further."

"Okay, but when you're ready, don't be afraid to say so."

"Afraid? Me? Never!"

Alan barked a laugh, shaking his head. Looking out the windshield, he suddenly stiffened. "Hey, what's that?"

Gordon frowned, "What?"

Alan pointed. "Over there, a little bit to the right."

Gordon squinted, but could see nothing. "Where? I don't see anything."

"There, Gordy, right there! It looks like headlights!"

Gordy hit the brakes, suddenly afraid of a collision. "Al, I don't… oh, now I see them… It looks like someone trying to get to the road." Gordon saw the headlights about fifteen feet away at right angles to the main road.

"No, they're not moving. I think they're stuck."

"Who is it? Who's dumb enough to try and drive in a blizzard?"

"You mean besides us? Um, we're three miles from home. I think it might be that new family that moved in to the Pulaski's old farm last summer."

"Idiot city people. Do they think it's like driving in a park?"

"What are we going to do?"

"What can we do? We're going to have to dig them out and get them back to their house. Hey, don't they have little kids?"

"Yeah, I think so. I think I heard Grandma saying the lady's pregnant, too."

"Geezus. Okay, I don't want to try driving over there. We don't know if they are on the driveway or not. Let's hike over and talk to them."

"Not necessary. Here he comes."

Squinting, Gordon was barely able to make out what his brother had seen. A man, muffled in a heavy coat and hat, had pulled his way out of the stuck car, and was climbing through the snow, headed for the truck. With the waist deep snow, it took him several minutes to make his way to the road, Gordon and Alan staring the whole time.

When he finally stepped up to the truck, Alan rolled down his window. With a smile the man started, "Am I glad to see… Oh God, you're just a couple of kids!"

The man looked as if he could cry, Gordon felt Alan bristle beside him, so he put a gloved hand on his brother's arm, responding to the man. "Yes sir. I'm Gordon Tracy, and this is my brother, Alan. We can get you unstuck so you can get back to your house. It's not safe out here."

The man dragged his hand across his face. "No, you don't understand. My wife is pregnant, and the baby is coming. I have to get her to the hospital."

Alan shook his head. "The hospital? There's no way you're going to make it to Jetmore in this weather."

"No, I mean the clinic in town. God, what am I going to do? She had trouble with the last one, she has to have a doctor."

Both Alan and Gordon, reacted to the man's fright. Alan reached out, and put a hand on the man's arm. "Hey, it's okay. We may be kids, but we know what we're doing."

"Yeah. We'll get you unstuck, and then we'll lead you into town to the clinic, okay? Al, grab a shovel."

Gordon pushed open his door, and reached into the back of the truck to get one of the snow shovels. He pushed his way through the snow to the back of the truck where the spray had done its work, grateful for the momentary respite.

He trudged through the snow to where his brother and the man were standing, looking out toward the car, discouragement obvious in their slumped shoulders. Gordon could see that in the blizzard, any attempt to shovel the car out would be futile, but that was not what he had in mind.

Yelling to be heard over the storm, Gordon said, "Okay, guys, what we need to do here, is dig down to find the edges of the driveway. Once we've got that, we can line the pickup up and back it down to the car."

"What? You can't back up into the drive, you'll just get as stuck as me!"

Alan, immediately understanding what Gordon was saying, moved forward nodding. "No, it will work. We've got this amazing stuff that melts the ice. You'll see. Now, do you know if you were on the driveway when you got stuck?"

With a worried look conveying his concern about trusting two kids, the man slowly nodded. "Yes, I was definitely on the driveway. Look, I have to go check on my wife. I'll try to mark the edge of the drive as I go, okay?"

"Yes sir, good idea."

As the man started pulling himself through the snow toward his car, Gordon and Alan shared a look, then together started digging down to find the edges of the driveway. It took a good ten minutes for Gordon to find his side, and Alan a few minutes more to find his.

Gordon pushed his shovel into the drift to mark his side, and looked back to where Alan was nothing but a dark blob in the blowing snow. He headed toward his brother through the trench they had dug across the driveway, noting that it had almost disappeared as more snow had fallen to cover it up.

Reaching his brother, Gordon called over the howling wind. "Okay, it looks like it's a straight shot, so if I can get lined up right it should be easy."

Alan cocked an eyebrow at the 'easy' but nodded. "Okay, you go get back in the truck, and I'll stay here to make sure you can line it up right."

"Sounds good."

Gordon trudged back to the truck, and once in, started the engine grateful for the blast of hot air from the heater. Thinking for a moment, he realized that knowing where one side of the road was, he could plow a second line on the other side of the road to give him more room to maneuver. He backed up a good fifteen feet, and once again dropping the plow, and turning on the sprayer, he drove forward, widening the cleared path. Coming again to where his brother stood holding a heavy duty flashlight, Gordon pushed the plow ahead another twenty feet to insure he could get out of the driveway easily.

Backing again he widened the clearing even more, then turned so that his tailgate faced the driveway. He swallowed against a sudden dryness in his mouth as he realized he wasn't sure if he was lined up properly.

Suddenly, another flashlight was turned on, and Gordon was relieved to see that the man was back, and holding his own flashlight, he waved for Gordon to come on back. With both lights to guide him, Gordon was able to move very slowly back down the driveway. He wanted to make sure the de-icer had a chance to work so he moved the truck at a snail's pace.

Breathing heavily, Gordon nevertheless was feeling pretty good. The pickup was moving easily as the snow disappeared like magic under its wheels. He had a stray thought that he could probably make it to town a lot easier if he could just back the whole way.

Both Alan and the man had gotten up on the tailgate of the truck, so Gordon was confident he was on track. Quicker than he expected, Alan waved for him to halt, which he did with relief.

Getting out of the truck, he could see they were within a foot of the man's car, and Gordon could see an anxious woman through the windshield. Grabbing the snow shovel, he joined his brother and the man in clearing out the last foot of snow from under the tires of the car.

"Do you want us to tow you?"

Looking much calmer, and more confident, the man shook his head, "No, with this de-icing stuff, we can drive behind you. God, you two are amazing. What did you say your names are?"

"I'm Alan and he's Gordon. You never told us yours."

Smiling the man reached to shake their hands. "Brent. Brent Myerson, I'm very glad to meet you."

Grinning as he shook hands, Gordon said, "Yeah, we're glad to meet you too, Mr. Myerson, but we better get going, okay?"

"Yes, absolutely. Lead the way."

Gordon and Alan made their way back to the truck and as one, slammed the doors when they got in. Starting the engine, Gordon said, "Keep an eye on them, Al, make sure they can get out behind us."

"Yeah, okay." The blond turned in his seat to stare out the back window.

Gordon moved ahead slowly. Beside him Alan nodded. "Yeah, they're okay, they're right behind us."

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Gordon brought the truck up to twenty miles an hour as he turned onto the road. Alan continued to look out the back to make sure the Myersons made the turn okay, then he turned back to the front, as Gordon once again dropped the plow.

Alan flicked the switch to turn on the sprayers, saying, "So, do you think we'll be able to get the story out before Grandma skins us alive?"

"I don't like her worrying, but I don't see that we have any choice here."

"Oh, I totally agree, and so will she. If we live long enough to tell her."

Gordon snorted, then a thought occurred. "Speaking of Grandma, how about some of that hot chocolate? I could really use some right now."

"Good idea." Alan busied himself getting out the thermos and pouring a cup for his brother.

The scent of the rich chocolate hit Gordon just as he realized he didn't dare take his hands off the steering wheel. He frowned as Alan held the cup out to him. It smelled so good, but he shook his head.

"What? Why not?"

"I gotta drive here, Al."

"Oh. No problem. Here."

Alan reached out with one hand to grab the steering wheel as he held out the cup with his other hand. Gordon considered for a short moment then released the wheel with one hand to take the chocolate. "Be careful."

"Don't worry about me. Just drink your hot chocolate."

With one hand on the steering wheel, and his eyes glued to the windshield, Gordon drank down the chocolate as quickly as the heat would allow. Finishing, he held the cup out to his brother. "Damn, that was good."

Grinning, Alan released his hold on the wheel, and went about getting his own cup of chocolate. "You want a marshmallow?"

"Seriously? You never share marshmallows."

"Yeah, well, these are just the store bought kind."

Gordon snorted, and grinned, but shook his head. "No, you can have them. I need to concentrate here."

"Cool!" Alan sat back and popped one of the white treats into his mouth. The brothers were quiet as they drove slowly down the road, each straining to hear the sound of the snowplow scraping on the road.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gordon looked down at his odometer. With a sigh, he shook his head. "Al, it's another three miles to town, and the clinic maybe another mile on the other side. I don't think I can make it that far. Look, I'm totally shaking here."

Gordon held out his hand to show his brother the tremor. Alan nodded. "Gordy, you've been driving, like, all night. I've got this. Let me take over, okay?"

"Yeah, I think you're going to have to." Gordon braked the truck to a stop and turned off the engine.

"Okay, you just slide over here, and I'll get out and go around."

"Yeah." Gordon replied. He wasn't happy, putting his brother in this position, but he was at the end of his strength.

Alan pushed his door open, and started to get out, but then he paused. "Hey, I think I hear something."

Gordon shook his head. "It's the wind."

"No, it's not. Headlights! I see headlights!"

"Oh, God," Gordon said in despair. He had a sudden vision of having to lead a convoy of cars into town. "How can there be more idiots trying to drive in this weather?"

Alan slid back into his seat. "It's not just any idiots, it's our idiots. It's Scott and Virg!"

Gordon's eyes widened and he peered through the windshield. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, they're about fifty feet ahead of us and coming this way!"

Gordon felt a wash of relief, then realized it didn't make any difference. The reason the sprayer was set up on the pickup was because it was configured to fit. They couldn't just turn the job of spraying all the way into town over to their older brothers.

Staring through the windshield, Gordon finally could make out the lights on the bigger farm truck. He was glad his older brothers were safe, and proud of the fact that they'd be able to make it the rest of the way home with relative ease.

As they watched, the truck drew nearer and nearer. "Uh, they can see us, right?" Alan said a bit nervously when the truck showed no sign of slowing.

Gordon frowned. "If we can see them, they sure should be able to see us."

The two teens sat tensely, as the heavier truck pushed forward. Just when they both thought a collision was unavoidable, the oncoming truck stopped, its higher headlights glaring into the cab of the smaller truck.

Gordon had his hand up, blinking against the glare, when there was a sudden knock on his window. Seeing his brother Scott standing there, he quickly rolled the window down. "Scott, I thought you were going to hit us, man."

"What the hell are you two doing out here? Are you out of your minds?"

"Hey, you're here. Are you out of YOUR mind?" Alan sniped back.

Gordon shook his head. "Hey, hey, stop it. Scott, we didn't have a choice. We got the sprayer set up, and we sprayed the driveway, and that stuff of Dad's was like a miracle. The snow totally disappeared, so we decided to drive a little way up the road, so you guys would see the bare patch and know you were near home. But then we found this car stuck in the snow, so we went to help them dig out, only the lady is having a baby and the guy said he had to get her to the clinic in town 'cause she had problems with the last baby. So we didn't have a choice, we had to try and get through."

Gordon ran down and gave a helpless little shrug. Scott, who could be terrifying when he was angry, listened patiently, and Gordon could see the anger draining away from him. The older Tracy looked thoughtfully back at the car pulled up behind the snowplow.

"What's up?" Gordon looked beyond Scott to see his brother Virgil had come up, frowning deeply.

"The people back there need to get to the clinic," Scott replied, then nodded. "Okay, Alan, you're with Virg. You two head on home. Gordon, move over, I'll drive the rest of the way."

Indignant, Alan piped up, "Hey, wait a minute. How come I have to go home? Gordy can go with Virg, and I'll go with you."

Scott's eyes narrowed, but when he spoke it was without rancor. "Not happening, kiddo. Gordy's been doing all the driving and anyone can see he's bushed. We've got Aunt Tina in the truck, and I need you to go with them to make sure she gets into the house safely. You might have to carry her."

Mollified, Alan said, "Oh, okay."

The idea of going home, and going to bed was suddenly very appealing to Gordon, but he didn't say anything. As Alan got out, Gordon slid over on the bench seat, and watched as Scott gave Virgil his marching orders.

"Okay, you back the truck up and work your way around us. We won't move until you've gotten around. Listen, in the morning, I'm going to want to set the one ton up with a sprayer, and I'll need your help, so don't stay up late, all right?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I'll be lucky if I don't fall asleep at the wheel."

"Uh…"

Virgil shot his older brother a look when Scott paused unsure. "Kidding. Just kidding, Scott."

"You better be. You nod off, and Aunt Tina will insist on driving, you know."

Virgil grimaced. "Yikes! Just the thought will keep me awake until next week!"

Gordon sniggered. Their Aunt Tina was the original 'speed demon.' Riding with her was always an adventure.

"Well, get going. We've got a pregnant lady behind us."

"Oh! Okay. See you at home."

"Yeah. Drive safe."

"You too," Virgil called back over his shoulder as he crossed between the two trucks.

Gordon watched as the bigger truck backed up a good ways, then, dropping its snowplow, pushed its way past. Scott sat watching in the rearview mirror. Gordon turned to look out the back window, but the blowing snow made even the car directly behind them hard to see.

After another moment, Scott made a little grunt, then started the engine. Glancing over at Gordon, he said, "You going to be okay? You look pretty wiped out."

"Yeah, I'm really tired, but I'll be all right. I was really ready to turn around and go home when we ran into the Myersons, but then it was too late."

"Myersons. Where did you say you ran into them?"

Realizing he was busted, Gordon sighed. "They were stuck in their driveway, close to the road. If they'd been another ten feet back, we would never have seen them."

Not to be distracted, Scott asked, "Didn't they buy the Pulaski's old farm last summer?"

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"So you were making a three mile long bare patch?"

Gordon ducked his head. "We just wanted to make sure you guys could get home. Wait until you see how this stuff clears the road. Even if Virg is tired, he'll be able to get home easy."

"And Grandma was okay with it?"

"Uh…"

"Yeah, that's about what I thought. I left you guys at home to take care of her."

"I'm sorry, Scott."

Scott shook his head. "You don't need to apologize. I know where your head was. You were worried about us and you thought you could help. But you need to prioritize better, squirt. If you'd had an accident or something, you wouldn't have helped us, and how long do you think it would have taken for Grandma to decide to try and come find you?"

"Find us? In this storm?"

"You said yourself the de-icer works. Is it such a hard leap to think of Grandma thinking she could just follow your trail?"

"Oh, God, Scott. Do you think she came after us?" Gordon's stomach dropped, and he stared out the rear window as if he could see anything beyond the headlights of the Myerson's car.

"Hey, relax, kid. If she did, Virgil will find her. My point here is you have to think of stuff like that before you do things, okay?"

Gordon wiped his hand over his face. "If anything were to happen to Grandma…"

"Nothing is going to happen to her. Listen, I've got to say, I'm pretty proud of you helping these people out. Not everyone would have stopped."

Gordon knew Scott was trying to make him feel better, but his mind was caught up in a spiral of fear for his grandmother. "Scott, I never even thought about Grandma when we saw those people stuck."

"Okay, I can see I shouldn't have told you this right now. You're too tired to see the whole picture. Grandma is sensible. She'd only come out if she was absolutely sure you'd been gone too long. It's not even midnight, and you know that's her panic point."

Gordon sat for a moment thinking, then nodded his head when he realized Scott was right. "Yeah, okay. Hey, it seems like it's easier going now."

Gordon sat up, more awake now as Scott got the truck up to thirty miles per hour. His big brother rolled his eyes. "It damn well should be. Virg and I just plowed it."

Gordon barked a laugh. "God, I AM tired. How dumb can you get?"

"I dunno, driving around in a blizzard delivering generators seems pretty dumb to me," Scott said with a small smile.

"Yeah. It's probably because Johnny wasn't home. He's gonna have a few things to say when he hears about this."

"Johnny can just keep his trap shut. Mr. Mettler was in a panic because the backup batteries for Mrs. Mettler's oxygen concentrator were bad, and she'd been without oxygen for over an hour. And Aunt Tina was practically blue when we got to her."

"How come she didn't stay home when you gave her the generator?"

"She said if she came home with us, we could give the second generator to the Grilleys. But I think she just didn't want to be alone at Christmas."

"But she always does Christmas at the church."

"This snow is not going to suddenly disappear in two days, squirt. If she hadn't told us she wanted to come home with us, Virg and I were going to try to talk her into it anyway."

Gordon smiled. "I like having her around, you know?"

"So do I," Scott said with his own smile. After a few moments, he said, "When we went over to Mrs. Grilley's, we hadn't even got the generator set up before she had gone and gotten a bunch of her neighbors. There were sleeping bags all over the place. And Mr. Mettler said he was going to get another older neighbor, so it really felt like it was worth it."

Gordon shook his head. "I wish we could call Dad. Maybe he could bring, like, more of those generators. There's got to be a lot of people who need them."

"Speaking of Dad, you know if we get that break in the weather they were talking about, he's going to try to get home. Tomorrow, can I trust you to take the half ton over to the hangar and get the runway cleared?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Gordon nodded.

The brothers were quiet as the snowplow pushed ahead. Gordon was looking out the window, trying to see something, anything in the blowing snow. He perked up when the wind suddenly lessened.

"Oh my God! We made it! We're in town!" Gordon smiled, as he was able to make out the buildings of Main Street.

The wind was still howling, and the blowing snow made the storefront into vague blobs, but knowing the town so well, Gordon knew exactly where he was. "Are we going to turn on Erna?"

"Ah, no. We're taking the long way."

"Why?"

"That part of town hasn't been converted yet. The power lines aren't underground, and the last thing we need is to hit a live wire."

Gordon swallowed hard. He wouldn't have even thought of something like that. He was yet again thankful for having such a smart big brother.

The talk of hitting a wire raised a question in Gordon's mind. "Did you guys see us back there? You came awfully close to clobbering us."

Scott snorted, "Of course we saw you… when we were about five feet away. I think you took a few years off Virgil's life there. He was driving."

"That's weird. We could see you coming from at least fifty feet away. Wasn't he paying attention?"

"We both were. Remember, though, the one ton has the lightbar on the roof. And with the plow raised, your headlights were covered. Why was the plow up, anyway?"

"I was so tired, I was shaking, so we stopped so that Alan could take over driving the rest of the way."

Gordon waited for Scott's response, but the older Tracy only grunted. He turned to look out the window again.

A few minutes later, Scott spoke up. "Sheriff Connelly would have a field day if he caught Alan driving in town. Or you either."

Too tired to respond, Gordon shrugged. Scott glanced over, and with a grin, said, "Of course, Dad would cut him down to size pretty quick. I can hear him now. 'So you think my son should have tried delivering the baby himself?'"

Gordon snorted a surprised laugh. His brother's mimicry was spot on, giving the remark just the kind of incredulity that his father would use.

"Yeah, ol' Connelly never has a chance with Dad, does he?" Gordon grinned.

"No, but that doesn't mean he couldn't thrash your butt, and don't you forget it. Dad isn't around right now to cover for you."

"Yeah, but what choice did I have, Scott? I couldn't just say too bad and go home, could I?" Gordon dropped his eyes to his lap, suddenly embarrassed by the whine in his voice.

Scott glanced as his brother. "Geez, you want a little cheese with that?"

Gordon sighed, "Sorry."

"No problem. Look, the clinic must have a pretty good sized generator."

Gordon looked up, and saw a lighted covered driveway ahead. He felt a wash of relief at the sight of the clinic, so obviously open. He'd had a niggle of fear that it would be closed, and he'd have to track down the doctor.

He looked out the rear window, pleased to see the Myerson's car close behind. Scott pulled the truck forward past the wide glass door of the clinic, then shut the engine down.

"Why don't you just stay here? I'll help get Mrs. Myerson inside."

Gordon considered, then with a sigh, shook his head. "No, I'd better just finish the job, you know?"

Scott cocked an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yeah. Come on, then, let's not keep her waiting."

The two brothers got out of the truck, and hurried back to the car, where Mr. Myerson was crouched by the door, encouraging his wife. Looking up, he recognized Gordon, and said worriedly, "She doesn't think she can walk. Can you go inside and see if they have a wheelchair or something?"

"Yes, sir." Gordon trotted to the glass door which slid open at his approach.

The nurse at the admitting desk looked up, startled, apparently not having heard the arrival of the truck and car. Gordon called to her as he came forward. "Mrs. Kelly, Mrs. Myerson is having her baby, and she doesn't think she can make it in here on her own. Can I like, borrow a wheelchair?"

The nurse hit a button that sounded a tone deeper in the clinic. "How on earth did you get here, Gordon? It's what, ten miles to your farm?"

"More like eight, and we brought the snowplow." Gordon jittered in place, not interested in small talk, but before he could say more, a door down the hall opened, and two orderlies appeared, one pushing a gurney, the other a wheelchair.

The admitting nurse called out to them, "Jake, just the wheelchair. Cathy Myerson is ready to deliver. Otto, go wake up Dr. Katzenstein."

Relieved at the activity, Gordon led the way back to the door, standing aside as Jake pushed the wheelchair through and over to the car. Gordon followed behind with the nurse, who directed the orderly and Mr. Myerson in settling the heavily breathing Mrs. Myerson in the chair.

Gordon felt like a fifth wheel as everyone bustled around. He followed lamely behind as the wheelchair with its precious cargo was whisked into the clinic and through the double doors to the treatment rooms.

When he reached the double doors, Gordon paused next to his brother, and they both stood simply staring at the doors. After a moment, Scott sighed, "Kind of a letdown, isn't it?"

"Sorta. But I didn't really wanna see blood and stuff."

Scott laughed, slapping Gordon on the back. "Yeah, there is that. What do you say we head on home?"

Gordon let out a sigh. "That sounds so good to me."

Scott laughed again and threw an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Good enough. Let's go."

The two Tracys left the warmth of the clinic and headed for their truck. Gordon paused at the truck door, listening. As he climbed in, he shook his head. "I keep thinking it's letting up, but it really isn't, is it?"

"Nope. But just look at that. Dad's magic de-icer really did a job on the road. Getting home really is going to be pretty easy. I can see why you kept going. I appreciate you looking after Virg and me."

Gordon smiled as his brother started up the truck, and pulled out, heading back the way they had come. It wasn't often that Scott handed out compliments, and Gordon basked in the approval. "Next time, I'll remember to make sure Grandma's okay with it, I promise."

Scott nodded. "That's a promise I'm going to hold you to, squirt. I'll be entering the Air Force soon, and I need to know I can trust you to hold things together for me."

Even knowing that Scott had probably said something similar to both Virgil and John did not lessen the swell of pride that Gordon felt. He sat taller in his seat, the determination to live up to his brother's trust flowing through him, washing away his exhaustion.

Gordon looked over at his brother, but Scott was concentrating on his driving, despite the roadway cleared of snow and ice. Gordon sat back, a small smile on his lips, knowing that no response was necessary.

Despite the clear road, the blizzard continued to throw waves of snow at the truck's windshield, and Scott kept the speed down to twenty-five miles per hour. They were almost to the edge of town, when a siren blared behind them.

Both brothers were startled by the sound, and Gordon twisted around to see out the back window. Sure enough, he saw flashing red and blue lights pulled up closely behind them.

Scott pulled over, frowning. "You've got to be kidding me."

Gordon's own frown matched his brother's. He watched as a shadowy figure exited the police car, and resolved itself into Sheriff Connelly as he approached Scott's window.

Schooling his face to bland indifference, Scott rolled down his window. The Sheriff looked him over and glanced at Gordon, who had followed his brother's lead and wiped the frown from his face.

"Scott."

"Sheriff."

"What is this stuff you've been spraying on the streets?"

"It's a de-icer that one of Dad's chemists came up with. It works pretty good."

"I can see that. You have any left in those tanks?"

Scott turned to Gordon, who displayed the control box to the sprayer, showing they still had almost two barrels of the de-icer remaining. Turning back to the Sheriff, Scott nodded, "Yeah we've got enough for about five more miles."

"Okay. The Lutheran Home's generator blew. DeRon Dorn has a replacement, but his truck is stranded in the snow. Merritt tried plowing, but the engine seized."

Scott didn't say anything, instead starting up truck. Sheriff Connelly nodded once and said, "I'll lead the way for as far as I can get."

Scott returned the nod, and rolled up his window. Gordon started to snicker. Scott tried to maintain, but soon joined his brother. Gordon asked, "How far do you think he'll get?"

"Right about to where the road isn't plowed. You okay with this? I know you're tired."

"Naw, I'm good to go. Of course, I probably am not in shape for heavy lifting, but I can watch while you work with no problem."

"Hmm. We'll see."

They followed the Sheriff for a few blocks, then he turned up a side street and immediately got bogged down. Scott and Gordon both laughed as the police car skidded to the side as Connelly tried to force the matter.

Scott honked his horn once, and moved forward into the heavily snow clogged street. Gordon hit the control on the sprayer, and the snow simply disappeared beneath their wheels.

After a moment, Scott reversed gears and slowly backed up to the beleaguered car. When he was so close Gordon thought he'd hit the front bumper of the car, Scott shut it down and got out of the truck. When Gordon saw his brother reach for the snow shovel, he sighed and got out of the truck also.

As he got to work clearing the snow from in front of the car's tires he heard Sheriff Connelly holler to be heard over the storm. "I'd appreciate it if you boys would not mention this to your father."

Even through the storm, Gordon could see the embarrassed hunch of the Sheriff's shoulders, and he had to turn away to keep from laughing out loud. Trusting Scott to take care of the Sheriff, Gordon sent the snow flying. As he worked, he had an idea for a hand sprayer to take care of this kind of snow. He made a mental note to mention it to Virgil who was clever at building that kind of tool.

With hard work, Scott and Gordon had the car cleared within ten minutes. Together they got back into the truck, and Scott got them on their way again. Gordon looked out at the blowing snow and asked, "Where are we going?"

"The loading dock at Dorn's. Apparently, they didn't even make it out to the street."

"I had an idea."

"Yeah?"

"So, do you think that maybe Virgil could like, adjust one of those big ol' backpack bug sprayers to spray the de-icer? It'd sure make digging out cars a heck of a lot easier."

Scott shot his brother a glance. "You know, that's not a bad idea. You wouldn't even need to adjust it. The sprayer head on those sprayers could handle the de-icer just fine."

"We've got two at home. We could use one for bug spray and one for de-icer."

Scott shook his head. "No, I don't think we want to use anything that could have traces of bug spray. We need brand new ones. Ones that have never had any other chemicals in them."

"Yeah, that'd be nice, but I was kinda thinking we need them right away."

Scott smiled. "As it happens, we're on our way to the hardware store right now."

Gordon rolled his eyes, "Well, duh. Man, Scott, I've been losing brain cells all night."

Scott shook his head. "For my money, you have all the brain cells you need. That hand held sprayer is a damn good idea."

Gordon shook his head. "I'm willing to bet that Virg has already thought of it, and probably Alan, too."

"Don't be so sure. Virg was almost as wiped as you were, and he still had to drive the rest of the way home. And Aunt Tina and Grandma will keep Alan hopping all night."

Gordon sat up, grinning. "I can't wait to get home to see Aunt Tina. I'll hop all night and tomorrow too if she wants."

Scott didn't respond, instead shaking his head. "Oh, Geez."

Gordon peered out the window trying to see what his brother had. His heart sank a little when he saw the loading dock at Dorn's Hardware. Mr. Dorn's flatbed truck, loaded with a tarp covering an industrial sized generator, was only a few feet up the driveway.

In front of the truck, Mr. Dorn and his son, Lucius, were using snow shovels to clear a path. Apparently, they were attempting to get to the old folks home any way they could.

Scott honked his horn over and over as they approached so that the Dorn's would know that the cavalry had arrived. Scott swung to truck around so that the tail faced the flat bed. Putting the truck in reverse, he said, "Gordy, get out and guide me back."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "What? You didn't need any help when you backed up to Sheriff Connelly."

"Yeah, well, I didn't care if I hit him. Get going."

Gordon chuckled at his brother's comment, and obligingly got out of the truck and slogged through the four foot deep snow to a point near the surprised Dorn's. With hand signals, he guided his brother back to within a foot of the flat beds bumper.

Looking at the pile of snow under the flat beds wheels, Gordon turned to the bemused shopkeeper and said, "Hey, Mr. Dorn, I'd like to buy one of those two gallon pump sprayers. You know, the ones for bugs? I don't have the money right now, but I'll bring it after all this snow is gone."

Scott walked up and raised a hand. "I've got the money. I'll pay for it. Mr. Dorn, Lucius, how are you doing? We've got a spray on de-icer that works really well. Gordon had the idea of using hand sprayers to get the snow out from under cars, and we'd like to try it out with your truck."

"This one of your father's inventions?"

"One of his chemists, yeah. It's supposed to be environmentally friendly, but that remains to be seen. What I can say is it works really well."

"DeRon, it was these two who plowed Main Street. It's still clear, despite all of this." The Sheriff, who had appeared out of blowing storm, gestured with his hand to indicate the storm and all of its effects.

Lucius, who had walked to the store when Gordon had asked about the sprayer, suddenly appeared with a brand new sprayer. He was pulling off the shrink wrap as he came. "Will this one do?"

"Yeah, that's just the one I wanted," Scott nodded. Taking the tank in his hands, he said, "Give me a moment to load it up."

Gordon watched as his brother bled off the de-icer into the hand sprayer. The job only took a minute, and when he was done, Scott presented the sprayer to his brother like it was a prize. "Your idea, you get to try it first."

Gordon grinned with delight. Taking the sprayer, he pumped it up, then slinging it on his back, approached the flat bed. Remembering a fire training class he had attended, he pointed the nozzle at the base of the tires and pressed the button. The spray came out in a delicate mist, but before Gordon could adjust it, there was applause from his audience.

"Wow." Gordon remarked. Even at the lightest setting, the spray went through the snow like Virgil went through ice cream. Gordon sprayed a wide swath, and moved forward, eliminating all of the snow between the flat bed and the truck in a matter of minutes.

Lucius had gotten down on his knees to look more closely at the spray. Standing up, he shook his head. "That was amazing."

Sheriff Connelly stepped forward. "Yes, it is. Now, let's get out to the home."

Mr. Dorn and his son nodded, turning toward the flat bed. Gordon hefted the hand sprayer into the back of the truck. Scott followed Mr. Dorn, calling out, "How much do I owe you?"

Mr. Dorn shook his head, "Not a dime, son. I will ask you to let me know when this product is on the market. I'll want to carry it."

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure you're the first one notified."

With a handshake and a mutual nod, Scott and Mr. Dorn parted company, each heading toward their respective trucks. As Scott got in, Sheriff Connelly appeared at his window.

Scott rolled the window down, and the Sheriff said, "Scott, we're going to go back out to Main, and head down to Idaho. Don't try Euclid or Hazel. They might be okay, but I know for a fact that Idaho is at least partially clear. Merritt got that much done before his engine seized."

Scott nodded. "All right."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes and said wryly. "I think I'll let you lead the way this time."

Both Scott and Gordon grinned. "Sounds good."

Scott put the truck in gear, rolling up his window. Gordon reached over and raised the temperature control to high. Scott glanced at the movement and nodded. "Yeah, okay, we'll have it on high for a few minutes, but then we turn it down. I don't want my engine to seize."

"Oh, come on, Scott, you know as well as I do that Bill Merritt's engine just so happened to seize in front of Jayhawks Sports Bar."

Scott snorted a laugh. "Yeah, probably. We're still turning it down. You get overheated in here, and you'll freeze your buns off when we have to get out."

Gordon made a face, but didn't say anything, knowing that Scott was right. After a few blocks on Main, they reached the unplowed area, and Scott dropped the snowplow while Gordon turned on the sprayer.

Gordon looked out the rear window of the truck, but could only see the headlights of Mr. Dorn's flat bed. "With any luck, we've lost Connelly."

"Yeah, keep dreaming. He's right behind the flat bed. I need you to keep an eye out on the road. I don't want to miss Idaho."

"Yeah, that'd be embarrassing wouldn't it?"

"Exactly, so keep your eyes peeled."

"Got it."

Gordon peered out his window at the dark blobs of the homes on Main Street. It was much harder to tell where he was than he thought it would be.

Most houses were dark, but every once in a while one home would blaze with light, indicating the owner's possession of a generator. Gordon remembered Scott's comment about the Grilleys bringing in their neighbors, and he hoped that the lighted houses he saw were all full of people staying warm.

He sat up straight at one house, with a large lighted area in the back. "Scott, we're almost there. That's Davis Kennels right there."

Scott nodded. "Good call. Now we just have to find the intersection."

Knowing that the street was just two doors up from the kennels, Gordon marked the next two houses. "Okay, Scott, it should be right here."

The Tracy brothers looked left and right, but in the blowing storm, it was impossible to be sure. Scott took a deep breath. "Right. Here we go."

Having committed to the turn, Scott kept his foot on the accelerator, and went forward into what seemed to Gordon to be a dark hole. The scrape of the snowplow on the asphalt was reassuring. Gordon nodded, remembering that it was the sound as much as anything that assured him he was on the road.

"It's going to be a lot harder to find Lambert," Gordon said. This part of town was less populated, only a few orchards and wheat fields until they reached Lambert which had small industrial parks in addition to the large Lutheran Home.

Scott sighed, "Yeah. Well, we know it's about 1 mile from Main Street, so we can use the odometer to tell."

"I'm not so sure about that, Scott. Alan said it was a quarter of a mile from the porch to the road, but the odometer said we were there, and we had to go another click before we hit it."

"Great. Well, we'll at least know we're getting close."

The two brothers were quiet as they moved slowly down the road. Gordon occasionally checked the rear window to assure himself that the flat bed was still with them.

"We're coming up on a mile now," Scott said quietly.

Gordon stared out the window at the still howling storm, then sat up straight. "Oh my God! How could I forget that?"

Startled by his brother's loud remark, Scott looked wildly around. "What? What's wrong?"

Gordon shook his head. "Nothing. Look over there. Can you see it?"

Scott squinted. "What the Hell…"

"Mr. Milstein parked his big forklift on the corner with a big sign for his Christmas tree farm."

The forklift was decorated with a few dimly lit strings of Christmas lights, and once noticed, was hard to miss.

"Why would he park it out here in no man's land?"

"I think his brother owns that orchard there."

Scott shook his head, but obediently turned the wheel and lined himself up on Lambert Road. "Okay, the home is just a little ways up the road. They've got those stone pillars marking the driveway. They aren't that tall, so we may or may not see them."

"Yeah." Gordon had his nose practically touching the window on his side of the truck. The Lutheran Home had a wide sweeping driveway up to an elegant covered area by the front door. Gordon was less interested in the stone pillars at the front of the drive, than the tall elm trees that lined it. He figured he was more likely to spot the trees than the pillars anyway.

"There! There, Scott!" Gordon pointed.

Scott frowned, "You sure, Gordy? I don't see those pillars."

"No, but see the trees? They like, line the whole driveway."

"Yeah, I see that. Well, we need to mark those pillars somehow. I don't want to smack into either of them."

Sighing, Gordon said, "Okay." He opened his door to a blast of ice laden air, and grabbing a shovel from the truck bed, headed for the side of the road.

He'd barely taken three steps before his brother honked his horn. Gordon glanced around, but realized he could not see his brother through the steamy window. Sighing again, he trudged back to the truck and opened the door. "Yeah?"

With a cocked eyebrow, Scott said, "Forget the snow shovel. Get the hand sprayer."

Surprised, Gordon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Sorry about that."

Scott just shook his head with a smile. Gordon shut the door, and made his way to the rear of the truck where the sprayer was stored. Pumping it to bring it up to pressure, Gordon used the straps to settle the sprayer on his shoulders, all the time aware of an audience in the flat bed.

Squinting to see the first of the trees in the driveway, Gordon estimated where the stone pillars would be. He hit an area of snow, and was disappointed when the snow melted away, but no pillar was uncovered.

He was about to try across the road when he noticed a patch of darker color at the edge of his cleared patch. Hitting the dark patch with the spray, the stone pillar was revealed. Satisfied, Gordon hit the patch again with the spray, and the pillar soon stood clear of the surrounding snow.

Gordon turned to go to the other side of the driveway, but paused when he heard Scott start up the truck. He watched as his brother turned into the driveway, close enough to the exposed pillar to insure he would not hit the other one.

The truck paused long enough for Gordon to put the sprayer away, and hop in the cab. "Good job," Scott commented, his eyes on the driveway ahead.

"Thanks." Gordon twisted to see out the back window. He nodded once when he saw the flat bed truck make the turn. Looking back around, he had a sense of deja-vu as they approached the entry. The covered entryway was very similar to the one at the clinic, except this one had no welcoming glow of light.

Scott pulled up to the doorway and both brothers stared into the darkened lobby. Despite the loud rumble of the truck behind them, no one came to the door.

"They're probably all hunkered down some place. Maybe the dining room," Scott said.

"So, what do we do?" Gordon asked, bemused.

Both brothers jumped at a knock on Scott's window. Gordon turned with his brother to see Lucius Dorn standing there, hunched over in the cold.

Scott rolled down his window, and Lucius leaned in. "Guys, the generator needs to go around back. How about I hop in to show you where, and Gordon, you go on in and find Mack Gerson to come down and unlock the system for us?"

"Sounds good," Scott nodded.

With an inaudible sigh, Gordon got out of the truck and headed for the front door. He heard his brother step on the gas as he reached for the door handle. He had a flash of thought that the door might be locked, but it opened easily under his hand.

In the darkened lobby, he looked left and right. It had been a while since he had been here with his Sunday school class, performing a Christmas play, but he was pretty sure the dining room was to the right.

He realized that he should have brought a flashlight, but it was too late to worry about it. The main hallway was gloomy, not pitch black, because the battery operated security lights were on. He stepped confidently on, hoping his brother was right, and he'd find the residents in the dining room.

Remembering from his last visit, Gordon turned down the proper hallway, and came to the big double doors of the dining room. He heard no sound coming from within, and his doubts blossomed, but he nevertheless pulled the doors wide.

As soon as the doors opened there was a soft susurrus of sound, and Gordon found that the large room had been turned into a barracks style bedroom, the beds crowded together.

Despite the forty to fifty people in the room, Gordon felt the cold air circulating. Most of the seniors were huddled in their beds, blankets pulled up to their chins.

The light in the room came from several lanterns that seemed to only throw the light out a few feet. Gordon looked around for someone in charge, and was surprised to find the pastor from his church, Mr. Hicks, coming toward him in the company of the Catholic rector, Father Tom.

Gordon moved over to the two men. "Mr. Hicks, we've got the replacement generator outside. We need someone to come and unlock the doors for us."

Father Tom's jaw dropped as Mr. Hicks' eyebrows rose. "You've got us a generator?"

"Yes sir. Scott's outside with Mr. Dorn and Lucius. They're ready to install it, they just need to get into the basement."

Father Tom lifted his hands in a shrug. "I've never doubted the power of prayer, and it's things like this that show me why. John, do you know where the electrical board is?"

Mr. Hicks made a show of looking around the room as he shook his head. "Not a clue. I saw Mack a little earlier. I don't know where he could have gotten to. Oh, there's Ben. Let's go ask him."

Putting a hand on Gordon's shoulder, Mr. Hicks directed him over to a man he had never seen before. The man looked up, a question on his face.

"Ben, this is Gordon Tracy, one of my parishioners. Gordon, this is Ben Aquino, the new director here at the home. Ben, Gordon has some very good news for us."

"Oh?" Ben said, a small smile growing on his face.

"Uh, yes sir. My brother and I have a snowplow, and we've cleared the road so Mr. Dorn could bring you a generator. We just need the door to the electrical system unlocked so we can get it hooked up for you."

The director's face closed up, and he shook his head. "We didn't order a new generator."

Surprised, Gordon frowned. Before he could say anything, Father Tom, who had listened in said, "Ben, you've got a lot of very cold people here. You need that generator."

Shaking his head, Ben responded, "I was brought in here to save this home from closure. The truth is, we can not afford a new generator. We can barely afford repairs to the old one. Now, young man, I fully appreciate your efforts to reach us, and I thank you, but we can not accept that generator."

Gordon looked around at all of the elderly people trying to stay warm in their beds. He couldn't help but notice a few of them were shivering. "But…"

Ben raised his hand, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to take care of."

As the man started to turn away, Gordon impulsively grabbed his sleeve. "No sir, you don't understand. My brother and I are donating the generator. You don't have to pay a dime."

Gordon swallowed, knowing the generator would take up all of his savings and then some. He knew he could trust Scott to make up the difference, but his older brother would unhappy at being backed into the contribution.

Ben's eyes narrowed. "You? You're a little young to be buying industrial generators, aren't you?"

John Hicks stepped up, his annoyance barely hidden. "The Tracy boys are very charitable. If Gordon says they are donating that generator, then they are donating that generator. Now, can we please have the keys to the electrical system? These people don't have the strength to weather this cold, and they shouldn't have to."

The director continued to frown, but reached in his pocket for a large key ring. "All right. Do you know the way to the maintenance rooms?"

Not trusting himself to be civil to this man, Gordon shook his head. Ben, looking put upon, nodded and said, "Well, I better come with you anyway. They probably are going to need my signature."

Gordon decided he really disliked this man, but he followed him anyway with Mr. Hicks and Father Tom bringing up the rear. Ben led them down a staircase marked Do Not Enter to a series of rooms.

As soon as they reached the corridor with the maintenance rooms to either side, they heard the sound of voices, and then, the sudden sound of a generator powering up.

With a dark frown, the director marched down the hallway to the furthest room, and storming in, roared, "Gerson! What are you doing?"

The home's longtime maintenance man, started, and spun around to face Aquino. Gordon, who had followed the director, saw a look of distaste on Mack Gerson's face. "I was installing this generator they brought us," Mack said sullenly.

"I've told you before, check with me before making changes. This is a change. You should have come and got me before you did this."

Gordon frowned, not liking the fact that Ben Aquino was dressing down his friend Mack in front of several people. Mack Gerson had been the janitor at Gordon's elementary school one year. Gordon had made friends with the man when he was just a tadpole, and Gordon felt his ire rise at the mistreatment.

Apparently, Father Tom didn't like it either, and he stepped in between the director and the maintenance man. "For now, this is a moot point. You know the generator is needed. How will it look to your board of directors if people take their parents elsewhere because you refused to allow heat in the building?"

Gordon hid a smirk as the director paled, stepping back from the tall priest. "I never said they couldn't have heat. Of course I've agreed to this generator. I just need my staff to show some discipline."

Sheriff Connelly, who along with the Dorns and Scott had also witnessed the entire scene, stepped forward and said, "The generator's already set up. Mack, throw the breakers. Let's get some heat in this place."

Mack ignored the director, and nodded shortly to the Sheriff. "Right."

Gordon watched as the maintenance man tripped several breakers in a panel, then paused, listening to the rumble of the generator. Satisfied, he nodded once, and turned to the watching audience. "All right, we're good to go. We should be able to move folks back to their rooms in a couple of hours."

Everyone present relaxed, letting out pent breaths. After a moment, the director threw a suspicious glance at Gordon, and gestured to Mr. Dorn. "So, I understand this generator is a donation? Paid for by this young man and his brother?"

DeRon Dorn raised an eyebrow, but simply nodded. "Yes, that just about sums it up, right, Scott?"

Gordon could see that Mr. Dorn had disliked the director's treatment of Mack, and along with Lucius and the sheriff, was presenting a solid front. Biting his lip, he looked over at his brother to see his response.

Scott didn't take long in replying. "Absolutely. It's a Christmas present for the residents."

Suddenly straightening, Aquino nodded thoughtfully then said, "Well then, we'd better get up to the dining room. Now that the power is on, we'll want to get some hot food and drink going for everyone. Would you gentlemen like to join us? It seems the least we can do for all of your work."

Scott was the first to respond. "No thank you. Gordon and I have to get home. Sheriff, tomorrow we'll bring in both plows with more of the de-icer, and clear whatever needs clearing."

Connelly nodded. "Thank you, Scott. We can really use the help."

DeRon was nodding too. "Lucius and I need to get along home too. Dotty will be anxious. Good job, Scott. You too, Gordon."

"Yes, good job, you two." Mr. Hicks reached over to shake the two brother's hands.

Scott smiled, "It was a team effort."

Father Tom, not to be outdone, said, smiling, "If you boys ever decide to jump ship, Our Lady of Guadalupe would be proud to welcome you."

Both Scott and Gordon laughed, Scott saying, "We'll keep that in mind, Father."

Scott jerked his head to get his brother moving, and together, they went out through the basement door to their truck. As soon as they were in the cab, Scott turned the heater to high, commenting, "Forget about it, I want to be warm."

Gordon grinned, then let loose a huge yawn. Scott got the truck under way, then said, "All right, what happened?"

Knowing what his brother meant, Gordon shook his head. "What a douche. He didn't want the generator. He said they didn't have enough money for it. I swear to God, Scott, if I hadn't said we were donating it, he would have had Mr. Dorn take it back." Gordon paused, looking out the window. "Um, how much do you think a generator like that would cost?"

"More money than you've got, I can guarantee that."

Gordon sighed. "Do you think Mr. Dorn would let me work it off? Maybe give me a discount price?"

Scott glanced at his younger brother. "You told him that we both were donating it. I can cover the cost, but I think we'll talk to Dad about it, see if he won't kick in some money."

"Really? Do you think he will?"

"Yes, I think he will," Scott responded. "You know Dad. For something like this, he'll probably want to cover the entire cost."

Gordon shook his head. "No, Scott. I said I was donating, and that's what I want to do. I've already finished my Christmas shopping, and I have about 900.00 saved up. I want to contribute all of that."

Scott nodded his head. "Okay, I can understand that. I'll tell you what, we'll talk to Dad about it at the dinner table. Maybe we can talk the guys into kicking in for it, too."

Gordon smiled, nodding his head. He looked out the window at the still wildly blowing snow, and at the street that seemed to shrug off any snowflake that fell. His smile faded as his eyes drooped. He shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. As his head started to drop, he jerked awake.

The third time he started awake, his brother looked over. "Gordon, knock that off. Just go to sleep."

Swallowing a yawn, Gordon shook his head. "No man, I'll keep you company until we get home."

Scott barked a short laugh. "Is that what you're doing? Gordy, you don't need to do that. I'm fine. And with the road clear, it's an easy drive."

"You sure? I can keep an eye out for you."

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather have you fresh tomorrow to clear the runway for Dad."

"Oh. Okay. All right, if you're sure, I'm just going to close my eyes for a few minutes."

"Okay." Scott smiled as he drove. Gordon settled in and closed his eyes. As he drifted off, he heard his brother mutter, "This was a good job."

The End


End file.
